


Let Me Help You (Help Myself)

by kokitsune



Category: Fallout 3
Genre: Baseball, Bullying, F/M, Height Differences, Underage Drinking, Vault 101
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-27
Updated: 2021-02-27
Packaged: 2021-03-18 10:47:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,343
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29732700
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kokitsune/pseuds/kokitsune
Summary: “I’m not joking. I just want a fair season, okay? Because, honestly, you really suck and I get it, it’s not your fault. You got a sucky coach and you’ve never swung a bat in your life until a few weeks ago. So-” he shrugged and crossed his arms. “I’m just putting it out there, okay?”Butch DeLoria offers to help the doctor's daughter get better playing a game she's only ever watched from the sidelines.He might have gotten into more trouble than he bargained for...
Relationships: Butch DeLoria/Female Lone Wanderer
Comments: 2
Kudos: 6





	Let Me Help You (Help Myself)

**Author's Note:**

> So, this work is completely self indulgent. I regret almost nothing. :) Except for any spelling/grammar mistakes. Those are all mine...

There were a lot of things Butch hated about living in Vault 101. 

Being a fucking barber (not a hair dresser fuck you very much) was pretty far up the list. Don’t get him wrong, he actually loved working with hair but a majority of the Vault’s guys and gals had zero sense of adventure. They stuck to their britches about maintaining the same hair style they’ve had since the bombs dropped. That is, until some shindig came up and then everyone was barking at him to make them look like the cat’s meow as if they couldn’t look like that every fucking day and make his life semi-interesting. 

Then there were the annual checkups with the Vault’s main doc who asked the same lame questions and acted like he gave a damn. 

“Yeah, my head hurts sometimes. These lights fu-freaking lights suck.” _No, it’s not because I snuck some hooch outta my mom’s stash._

“What is there to do? I go to class, do my job and I hang with my gang. Sure it gets boring but what the hell else am I gonna do?” _Especially since Freddie ain’t sharing any more of his happy pills. The spaz._

“Wait? You wanna put that needle where?!”

But even all that was preferable to the absolute cluster fuck that he suffered through during the weekly baseball game. 

See, Butch would openly admit that he was an asshole all day, every day but even he wasn’t a big enough of a dick to enjoy the shit show they were all in for as the Vault doctor’s daughter walked through the atrium doors dressed in the designated women’s baseball uniform. 

The uniform itself wasn’t too bad. It was white with black stripes from the collar of the button up shirt down to the base of a knee length skirt that was held up with a black belt. Black knee high socks and a pair of string lace shoes completed the look and, on the other 16-17 year old girls, it usually fit the players pretty swell. On her, however, it was painfully obvious that the clothing was too big on her. 

Not for the first time, Butch wondered what James’s wife had looked like because, except for the same dark hair and light brown eyes, his daughter was practically pocket sized while James easily towered over 6 feet. 

The sleeves, for one, fell below her wrists and he imagined that excess shirt fabric practically acted as a dress on its own. The skirt fell to her ankles and it would probably take just one ill timed blast from one of the air vents to send her soaring to the second floor. Even the red baseball cap she fiddled with looked too large and, yep, once she put it on it drooped forward to cover her eyes. 

Hell.

He knew it wasn’t her fault, that she was wearing the only spare uniform available since Janice Wilkins twisted her ankle while trying to steal second base a few games ago. It was common knowledge that the kid hadn’t played a single game, content to be the team’s glorified water girl until she was dumped into Janice’s spot until she could heal which would take at least a month or two. 

“Look,” an elbow slammed sharply into his side. “Guess it’ll be an easy win again, huh? Man, if I woulda known they were that hard up for players I woulda signed up my dead granny!” Wally cackled loudly at his own lame joke then elbowed someone else to share it. 

Butch gave a half hearted snort but groaned inwardly as whatever hope he had for a good game went down the stinker. 

_Hell, maybe she’ll be better than last time._ Third time's the charm and all that jazz. 

*

Third time was not the charm as it turned out. 

“How can she be worse than before?” Butch wondered aloud as the kid missed another easy ball. He was even sure that Jonas, the designated pitcher for all of their games, was going easy on her. She wasn’t even wearing the stupid hat. She had taken it off in the 3rd inning and looped it through her belt but, hell, she might’ve been doing better with half of her vision blocked. At least then she had hit the ball once. It was out of bounds but still…

They were in the bottom of the 5th inning with Amata on third base and no one else. The girls were down by, well, a lot but there was still time for them to make up the points they were missing if they put their all into it. If Butch had been on their team, he woulda switched up a few things with their play style but he wasn’t and never would be. It was always boys versus girls for any games because of some traditionalist bullshit the Overseer was refusing to change.

So, while the boys had Stanley as a coach who had several years of baseball knowledge under his belt, the girls were stuck with Beatrice of all people because no one else had an interest in coaching them. It was fucking hilarious when, during the first game, it became obvious that she relied a lot more on tarot card readings rather than any, well, actual baseball reading she could have dug up. 

The hilarity of it wore off, though, after she instructed Amata to go way, way out field and designated crybaby Christine to the infield. Butch had overheard her mumbling about the spirits telling her it must be so then said that the Atrium’s chi was off when they lost. 

This, from what Butch could tell, seemed to be a trend they were certain to repeat because the teen up to bat swung a whole 5 seconds too early and earned her third strike out. Even from his crouched position on first base Butch could see a bright red flush spread across her face and what looked like tears fill her eyes before she yanked the baseball cap free from her belt and pressed it over her head. As the boys crossed the “field” for their turn up to bat, Butch watched as Amata sprinted to her friend and hooked an arm around her shoulders to lean in close. 

Probably to tell her it was okay or some other reassuring piece of bullshit because Butch could already hear Beatrice telling the other girls that the stars just weren’t aligned like that fucking made sense but kudos to her for trying to smooth everything over. 

They had a quick few minutes to get their bearings then Butch’s team, the Vault Dwellers, (fuck Paulie for that suggestion) had their batting line up and the 101 Winners (gag) were in position. 

Wally was up to bat first with a hit that got him onto first base then Freddie who struck out and next it was Butch’s time to shine. He finished a few practice swings before jogging up to the plate and relaxed into his batting stance of feet planted, shoulders slightly stooped and knees bent. 

A soft sigh from behind had him smirking as he could practically feel Susie Mack devouring his backside. At 16 Butch knew he looked good. His own men’s uniform fit him snugly across his broad shoulders and cupped his rear nicely. His long legs stretched the pants fabric, highlighting his muscular thighs and calves and his brown hair was perfectly coiffed even after so many innings thanks to his own concoction of hair slick.

Jonas took advantage of his preening as he threw a fastball that counted as Butch’s first strike. _Okay, point made…_ A smattering of cheers went out from the second level of the Atrium where all of the spectators were but it all rolled off of his back as he swung his bat lightly across the home plate then regained his stance, this time without the distraction of the girl behind him. 

Instead his blue eyes drew to the girl just beyond Jonas’ shoulder in the infield like a magnet, her piercing eyes drinking in every inch of his body and, good grief, what in the hell was she doing?! 

The swish of a ball had him staggering back in shock with how fast it blew by him and into Susie’s catcher’s glove. 

“Strike 2!” Floyd, the home plate umpire, called and this time the applause was a bit louder, more involved as the crowd celebrated another small victory for the underdog team. Butch grit his teeth and resolved to not be distracted this time. It paid off as he hit the ball far enough for him to claim 1st base and another player to take up the bat. 

While Paulie took to the home plate and got his shit together, Butch let his eyes wander back to the doctor’s daughter for a few moments. He was only a little shocked to see that she wasn’t looking back at him but at Paulie with the same squinty eyed scrutiny she’d just shown him. He was so hung up on it that he didn’t notice Paul’s second swing until the crack of the bat jolted him back to the present and his feet moved on their own toward second base. 

Butch was struck out as Amata darted forward from 2nd base then back again to touch him out at the plate and he had no one to blame but himself. 

After the Vault Dweller’s third strike out, Butch recognized what the teen girl was looking for and huffed in amusement at her moxy. 

As they transitioned into another inning, he made a show of leaning over to tie his shoe as Amata passed by then grunted loudly to catch her attention. She paused but moved forward until he coughed uncomfortably loud into his sleeve until she stepped back into his space. 

“You okay there or-?” 

“She needs to pull her shoulders up a bit more,” he said. “And line her feet up for God’s sake, that back end approach of hers ain’t doing her any favors.” 

A moment of silence passed before a baffled, “What?!” 

“Tell your friend that she needs to stand up taller, plant her feet and fucking raise her swing a bit if she wants to hit another ball this season,” he snapped as he pulled back up to his full height then moved toward his team’s designated dugout. 

Stanley made a few encouraging comments and detailed some plays but Butch didn’t bother to listen in. His attention was several feet to the right toward the girl’s dug out. He watched Amata pull the girl into a quiet conversation which included the Overseer’s daughter positioning her stance into roughly what Butch had told her. It was a bit lacking in some things but it showed how much it was useful as the girl actually hit a ball into the outfield for the first time even if she didn’t go beyond second base for the rest of the game. 

By the end of it, the 101 Winners were definitely _not_ but they hadn’t done as badly as the previous 2 games while the Vault Dwellers were celebratng their third win of the season. 

*

After a quick shower Butch was seated at one of the barstools in the cafeteria sipping on a soda (with more than a splash of vodka) as various Vault residents celebrated or mourned around him, depending on which team they rooted for. He was given a few pats on the back even though he didn’t play as well as usual but he winked at the gals and shook hands with the guys as they came up to him because, despite his reputation as a bad boy, he was still golden when it came to baseball. 

So when a warm, curvy body slipped next to his own, he thought nothing of it to slide an arm around their shoulders to pull them even closer and brush his lips across their cheek. 

“Hey there, sweetheart,” he whispered. “How you doing?”

Wide, familiar eyes turned to meet his own. A beat of silence passed before Butch wretched his arm back as if stung and swore because he’d be damned if he would be caught fondling the doc’s daughter, no sirree. He’d seen the steel behind the older man’s eyes and wanted absolutely nothing to do with it so help him God. 

“Christ! What are you doing?” 

“What am I doing?” she whispered. “What are you doing? I just came to say-” she glanced around at all of the people surrounding them then looked helplessly at Butch before jerking her head in a specific direction. He watched her move through the crowd then, after a quick glance back at him, she left through one of the cafeteria doors. 

Jeez.

The teenager downed the rest of his drink then followed after her. She was waiting for him a little down the hall and did nothing but meet his eyes then disappear around a corner. Butch followed her until she led them into what turned out to be a mostly empty supply closet. Only the glow of their Pip-Boys illuminated the small space and the nervous expression on her face had Butch on edge as the door slid shut behind him. 

“So-”

“Thank you for-” 

They both stopped as suddenly as they had begun. A beat passed then, 

“What are you-”

“I really appreciate-” 

Butch pressed his hands against his face. “What the hell?” he groaned. 

“Amata told me what you did,” she finally blurted out. “She told me that you gave her some pointers for me and I just wanted to thank you.” 

A few beats of awkward silence passed during which Butch wondered if he’d been brained by a fly ball during the game and was in some sort of coma because they weren’t friends by any stretch of the imagination. Yet, Butch had helped her even if it was for his selfish reasons and was being thanked in return like they weren’t enemies. 

He had tortured her and Amata for the hell of it starting when they were kids and it hadn’t stopped. Hell, it had gotten worse the older they got with one of their worst run-ins just a few weeks ago when he and the other Tunnel Snakes had been heckling Amata then turned on the doc’s daughter without hesitation. 

She had cried then, he remembered, as Wally spewed insults about her height and slight lisp she hadn’t outgrown until Amata punched him right in the kisser. 

_And here she is_ , he frowned. _Sayin ‘thank you’ for practically nothing._

“Yeah, well,” he shrugged. “Your coach is shit. I woulda thought that someone woulda given you a few tips or something. Christ, what did they do? Just give you a bat and tell you to have fun?” 

That familiar blush was back with a vengeance. 

“…Yes? Pretty much? I mean,” she gave a half laugh and a lopsided grin. “There’s a reason why I was never put into the game before. Jeez Louise, I’m afraid of the ball and I’m not a fast runner.” 

Butch rolled his eyes and waved all that nonsense away. “Yeah, yeah. All that can be fixed with practice. Get some time in with the pitching machine and run a few laps a day and you’ll be golden. It’s your form and swing that you need work on. Can’t your dad or someone show you the ropes?” 

She wrinkled her nose at that. 

“No. My daddy once called a home run a touchdown. Besides, he and Jonas have been so busy lately and Amata’s been spending all of her free time with her dad since she’s on track to be the next Overseer. She’s got so much to learn and I can’t bother her with this. Officer Gomez offered to help me but something with Pepper always seems to come up at the last minute and Stanley has the water chip to worry about so…” 

Butch crossed his arms as the silence stretched then lowered them when he realized with a pang of horror that there probably didn’t have anyone else. _Jesus, how could the kid only have her dad, Amata and men a decade older than her as friends?_ He knew that her goodie two shoes attitude put off a lot of people but he didn’t know she was that bad off. 

Now that he thought about it, though, he remembered his mom forcing him to attend her 10th birthday party because of some bullshit reason and he’d demanded Paulie and Wally go with him or they couldn’t be in the gang he wanted to start. _The same birthday party I made her give up her sweet roll._ Fuck! 

They had been the only kids there and were never invited to return once Gomez had ridden on his white horse to give him a talking to. 

She must’ve noticed the sudden pity he felt for her because she straightened up to her full five feet and pursed her lips. “Okay, so, thank you again. I’ll work on what you said and try not to be such a laughing stock next time.” In a flash she was scooting by him and out the door without another word. 

Butch stood there dumbstruck for a few seconds as he tried to make heads or tails of the first full fledged conversation he’d just had with the other teenager but all he could see was the sudden sadness in her honey brown eyes. He beat feet out the still open door after her with a plan so crazy he might end up committed. 

“Hey! Hey, pipsqueak!” 

“Butch?” 

“Hah! Shouldn’ta answered to that.” 

The brunette sighed. “What is it?” 

“Look, all that running and batting won’t do shit for you if you don’t have someone showing you how to stand or where to put the bat, alright?”

She frowned and his eyes flicked down as she bit at her bottom lip. “Oh, wow, thanks Butch. That's a really encouraging thing to say.” 

He held up his hands. “Put the claws away, kitten. So, here’s what I’m proposing: I’ll help coach you, capiche? Once, no, twice a week for the rest of the month. If you don’t improve after that well, then you’re really a lost cause.” 

She stared at him, bug eyed like he just stripped naked and danced a jig in the middle of the hallway. Which, to be fair, he probably would’ve preferred as her shock turned to distrust. Her eyes darted around the empty hallway as if looking for someone to jump out and shout ‘boo’! 

“Look,” she started. “I don’t know what kind of prank you’re pulling but I really don’t appreciate being the butt of another joke.” 

Butch credited the vodka still running through his veins for the level of patience he showed. 

“I’m not joking. I just want a fair season, okay? Because, honestly, you really suck and I get it, it’s not your fault. You got a sucky coach and you’ve never swung a bat in your life until a few weeks ago. So-” he shrugged and crossed his arms. “I’m just putting it out there, okay?” 

Butch’s eyes darted to the pink flash of tongue that darted out to lick at her lips as she seemed to seriously consider his offer. It was something she did when she was nervous, he realized then spent a few seconds recalling a few of the times she bit at her bottom lip or sucked at the cap of a pen. The memories sent a surge of blood to pool down south which he definitely didn’t want to think too deeply about so he gave the girl a quick nod then turned around with the intent to head back to the party and sneak enough alcohol into his drinks to forget the night entirely. 

A warm hand closed around his wrist which made him whip around to meet a pair of determined eyes. 

“Okay, let’s do it.”

**Author's Note:**

> Please ignore any (all) baseball inaccuracies. I watch baseball leisurely and the last game I actually went to was my younger brother's game well over a decade ago. I researched all of the loosely termed 'tactics' and terminology within an hour of writing this chapter. This story is being written purely for fun.


End file.
